Dial B for Booty
by kbeto
Summary: In which Derek's his emotionally constipated self with technological problems, Stiles is romantically (and sexually) frustrated, Scott and Allison are great friends to have around, and Erica is all for some butt jokes. Sterek, fluff, rated T for nothing especially naughty.


_Disclaimer: Don't waste your time thinking of suing me, because the only thing I have is a lot of feelings._

_This one took me so long! Guess I just lost touch with everything happening around me. *sighs*_

_Credit goes for **lonewolfed** (on tumblr) for the hilarious post and prompt. I probably didn't stick to everything is the same bit, but I don't think I ever did before, so... *shrugs*_

_I'd also like to dedicate this one to the adorable **raisesomehale,** because her love for Sterek really is one of the sources of positivity in this fandom._

Dial B for Booty 

Working with Derek sure changed the way Stiles saw him. Despite his somewhat ineptitude to deal with technology and advanced search on the internet, Derek seemed pleased about the speed dialing option on his new phone— he wasted no time to add Scott, Erica, Isaac, Laura and Stiles to his five most used contacts, which sort of came out as a surprise, given his constantly bickering with the latter.

Things seemed to go quite smoothly —as smooth as you can get in freaking Beacon Hills, considered the hellhole and house to all the supernatural shit in the world— and Stiles was radiant that he managed to make Derek 'old school' Hale more acquainted to everyday stuff, that until he started receiving mysterious calls from Derek's number at the most random times. It always followed the same pattern: phone rings incessantly till Stiles answers it, and then he hears rustling with occasional faint voices in the background.

"If you're trying to prank me, I swear I'll pour some wolfsbane in your underwear drawer!" Stiles glared at his screen, groaning in frustration and shoving the device back into his pocket. Some days he would get three calls at best, and other times it would be a ridiculous number as high as 20— _actual_ calls from Derek would make up to just 10% of those.

"I don't even want to know why you're being _so_ specific about your plans of revenge," Scott shook his head, putting his book down to watch his friend with an inquiring look (that told the exact opposite). Stiles didn't notice it, since he was too busy banging his forehead against the table, and muttering something about people getting off on his pain. "Maybe Derek doesn't know how to lock his screen?"

"Sometimes I get appalled by your genius, McCall."

Scott laughed and playfully hit his _alleged_ best friend on the forehead with his book. "I'll take that as a compliment, I guess."

"Totally what I meant, dude," Stiles grinned back, and within seconds they were immersed again in chemistry and all kinds of solutions. Ugh, if only it contained the 'solution' for Stiles' weird chemistry with Derek. Maybe then he wouldn't be dreading the whole thing so much; something bad was bound to happen, and he knew that.

~#~

"You came here to call me stupid?"

"Wowowowow! Don't put words in my mouth, buddy! I only asked if you know how to lock your screen," Stiles sighed, taking cautious steps away from a disgruntled Derek. So far the werewolf completely ignored the script Stiles played in his head of how things would unravel— that's _not_ how he was supposed to react.

That, and some traitorous part of Stiles' brain thinking of many _more_ _interesting_ things Derek could put in his mouth, even if he wasn't going to voice any of them.

"Which—" Derek snarled, baring his slightly grown canines, "— is the same thing."

Stiles snorted in despite of himself. Probably _not_ the wisest decision when you have an adult werewolf breathing on your face. "You know this whole _'I'll-rip-your-throat-with-my-teeth'_ act is quite old by now, right?"

A quick flash of red only prompted Stiles to snort again, this time confident enough to reach a hand out, poking Derek's chest with his middle and index fingers. And what a firm and fine chest, Stiles might add. Not that their relationship had been anything more than just unlikely partners in crime, but one would have to not be able to see past all the tragic back story (nevermind a screaming need to hone social skills), and see Derek for the walking temptation with a big heart he is.

"Look, there's no need to get your _fur_ in a knot. Give me your phone, and nobody gets hurt—"

Damn werewolves and their reflexes and strength. In a world that stupidly sexy face wouldn't feel like some fucking iron wall and nearly shatter his bones down to his wrist, Stiles would _so_ pay back the shove received with a punch. Sadly, his human condition and common sense spoke louder, vanishing ideas of revenge as soon as they came.

Stiles rubbed his head, watching Derek give him a smirk coupled with a snort of satisfaction. "Aren't you turning into a comedian? You really _do_ seem to get off on my pain," he grunted.

Probably, Derek wasn't expecting the hand around his wrist, but he didn't seem to mind much, allowing Stiles drag him to the couch for a long explanation on security codes and locking screens. Everybody kept their own throats intact, what could only be taken as _good_ sign.

~#~

"Is it Derek?"

"More like 'Is it Derek butt-dialing you?'," Stiles sighed, sliding his phone over to Scott and banging his head against the table.

As Erica pointed out once, if all his reactions about Derek came down to banging his head on every flat surface within sight, that only meant Stiles ending up with serious brain damage, or really wanting to bang Derek _on a table_. Needless to say, he had to endure an awful lot of jokes revolving around butts, phones and sex since then.

Scott, being a good friend, answered the call, not bothering to bring the device to his ear. "He seems to be training or something. I can hear him panting—"

"Dude, you're not helping me when you describe the situation with your wolfie-senses. The situation is already complicated as it is!" Seriously, the last thing Stiles needed was the imagery of a sweaty Derek on the floor, abs rippling from exercising and muscles glistening against the sunlight. At least not when he's away from the secrecy of his own room. "I appreciate your good intentions, though."

"It sounds like somebody has a huge crush and doesn't know how to act." Stiles didn't even have time to react accordingly, when Allison propped down beside Scott, her smile so wide that he worried about all the strain on her face. "Are we talking about someone I know? You seem awfully frustrated," she continued, lacing fingers with Scott, who seemed a little lost.

Scott frowned, trying to piece things together. Now that Allison pointed it out, Stiles _did_ spend most of his time speaking of Derek —complaining, it's true, but that didn't change a thing— and he had long got over his _forever-infatuated-with-Lydia_ condition. But Derek? Wasn't that just Erica poking fun at Stiles? Well, only _one_ way to find out.

Clearing his throat, Scott returned his best friend's phone, before asking the real question. "Stiles, is that— Why you never told me you like—"

_Been around the world, don't speak the language_  
_ But your booty don't need explaining_  
_ All I really need to understand is when you_  
_ Talk dirty to me_

Saved by the bell. Or quite not, since Jason Derulo gave everything away, now that Scott had confirmed where his friend's frustration came from. And why the hell did the phone ring, when Stiles made sure to put it on vibrate? Oh. _Goddamnit, Scott._

"Just one second," he signalised to the couple and stumbled away to a more private location, even if he was just going to talk to Derek's _butt_. "Of course the biggest ass I know would be calling me again. What can I do for you? Oh, I forgot you're the silent type."

After an unusual silence, and a sharp intake of breath, a voice spoke, sounding cold and distant. _"I won't be calling again, don't worry."_

_Shit._ "Derek, wait! I didn't think it was—" the call ended abruptly, "— _actually_ you."

~#~

As the son of someone who make a living from reinforcing the law, Stiles would expect himself to know better than enter anybody's house through shady efforts, but he knew _very well_ how hard it was for Derek to open to other people, and there's no way he would let all the effort of years go to waste. Even if that meant picking locks and breaking into an emotionally wounded werewolf's loft.

_What_? You can learn all kinds of stuff on the internet, after all.

Not surprisingly, Derek already expected whoever was at his door with a menacing stance. With some luck he'll wait for Stiles to finish his explanation, before going for some beheading and hanging a head outside his door as a signal to keep everyone away.

"You can leave by yourself, or I can kick you out. Your choice."

"I'm not leaving until you hear what I have to say. You can rip my throat for all I care; I'm still speaking my mind!" For a long minute they stared at each other, Derek visibly pissed about their earlier call, and Stiles flustered from running part of the way to Derek's home. "Derek, you're taking 'booty calls' to a whole new level, and a less sexy one, I must say."

"I'm what?"

"Remember when I taught you about screen locks and everything? I expected you to actually _use_ that information and stop calling me on accident."

"That's not—"

_You came so far, just go and say everything else that's on your mind. _"Do you have any idea how bumming it is to see your name on the screen and think you need me, but all I can hear are your some friction in your jeans or you working out?"

Silence overtook the room, Derek's gaze redirected to his own feet. It would be stupid of Stiles to just assume Derek would acknowledge that he hadn't understood how to make properly operate a cell phone, though somewhere deep inside resided the expectation of a proper explanation— beyond the usual brooding persona, that is.

"You're not mad when I call you?" Derek scratched his head, his eyebrows knitted in confusion. He seemed a bit flustered, and _gosh_ was that cute.

"I only get mad when it's _your ass _calling me. _Literally_ calling me, I mean. Not that it ever called me in any other way," Stiles grinned, taking small steps forward. "That's why I said all that to you earlier. I know you can hear that I'm not lying."

They met half way, Derek rubbing his beard and Stiles with his hands shoved in his pockets for no special reason. Maybe he just needed distraction to keep him from fidgeting and focus on something other than his own heartbeat, loud in his ears. Heartbeat that any werewolf ears could pick rather easily.

Even when nothing more was spoken, Derek looked slightly less tense than he had been a few minutes ago. "I always forget to lock it, because I can never seem to call you without a reason."

_Wait, what? _Stiles blinked once, twice. It wasn't before a third time, that his brain registered what Derek meant and his mouth hanged open in a very unsexy way. Because it has never been a problem to call old Stiles at 1AM to ask him to drop by the next day for some research, so why would Derek Hale have a problem calling him at any other given time?

"I want to try something out. Is that okay with you?" Stiles asked, licking his lips and taking a few more steps into Derek's personal space. He reached each hand on one side of Derek's neck, awaiting for a confirmation, which came in the form of a short nod and lips parted enough to show cute bunny teeth.

The distance between their lips became nothing, and a tentative kiss started— slow and careful, as if both were afraid of hurting the other. It lasted for as long as Stiles could without needing air, and then they broke apart to rest foreheads together.

"Wanna try again? Just to, uh, be sure we know what we're doing?"

Derek grinned, shaking his head. "You're unbelievable," he said, initiating a more heated kiss. Stiles seemed to get the memo, as his hands found their way to Derek's butt and he accidentally ended calling himself and ruining the moment, since they both guffawed for almost a minute.

Never again did Stiles mind a booty call from Derek. Not after grabbing aforementioned booty, no.

~Fin~


End file.
